Olupero R. Aiyenimelo

Experiments In A Jazz Aesthetic: Art, Activism, Academia, and the Austin Project

admin — Wed, 04 Aug 2010 16:05:00 +0000

Edited by Omi Osun Joni L. Jones, Lisa L. Moore, Sharon Bridgforth

In June 2009, I participated in a writing workshop with Sharon Bridgforth, not knowing what to expect and not knowing what I was expected to give. I only knew that I loved music, having already pledged my undying love for jazz at a young age, and that I loved writing; but I never intended to leave with a blueprint for the foundation of how I would put pen to paper from that point on. Since then, my writing has been centered in being present in the here and now, a soulful, deep listening, improvisation (which brings together both the aforementioned), and an integrity that refuses to deviate from what makes up what is known as the jazz aesthetic. It is always a work in progress, as it should be.

According to Austin Project founder Omi Osun Joni L. Jones, director of the John L. Warfield Center for African and African American Studies and Associate Professor of Performance Studies in the Department of Theatre and Dance at the University of Texas at Austin, the Jazz Aesthetic Manifesto “is a way to forestall the erosion of human connection by bringing to voice women of color and those white women who are able to learn the role of allies.” Jazz has always been about being in the moment, listening to oneself and to one’s surroundings, improvisation, and continuous change. Those precepts are among the few that shaped themselves into the manifesto that would become the Austin Project.

The Austin Project (tAP) was started in 2002 with a stone etching that “all women-all people-are inherently creative, are artists in their own right, and that claiming this identity can be transformative for individuals and communities.” It provides a space for women of color and their allies to write and perform in a jazz aesthetic as a strategy for social change, be they writers, performers, doctors, or social workers. It consists of collaborators Lisa L. Moore, Associate Professor of English and Women’s and Gender Studies at University of Texas at Austin, and Sharon Bridgforth, Lambda Literary Award-winning author of the bull-jean stories and love conjure/blues. Mentors and teachers of the women of tAP have included artistic nobility such as Laurie Carlos, Carl Hancock Rux, Virginia Grise, and Daniel Alexander Jones, to name a few.

Not often do I find it difficult to summarize the works of a collective into several hundred words; however, this is one of those times. Experiments in a Jazz Aesthetic includes the works of some of the previously mentioned collaborative artists, as well as a veritable who’s who in all things to do with art, activism, and the academics. Jones wrote that in conceiving the Austin Project, she was trying to save her own life; consequently, many births seem to have taken place, for many artists have birthed a way of creating, organizing, and performing. Whether it is art, activism, or academia—being present, listening, body- centered, true to the both/and instead of the either/or all on an inclusive level all serve as the foundation with which to maintain the integrity of the jazz aesthetic. It is always a work in progress, as it should be.

Written by: Olupero R. Aiyenimelo, August 4th 2010

The Great Silence: Britain from the Shadow of the First World War to the Dawn of the Jazz Age

admin — Fri, 23 Jul 2010 00:00:00 +0000

By Juliet Nicolson

Grove Press

The Great Silence starts out with a story that is never fun to tell—the story of a war—the First World War. Nicolson writes of a part of life that divides humans like no other, but also remedies that story with one that is incomparable in drawing us together—that of music. Everything in between is categorized under feelings such as, hopelessness, anger, honesty, and acceptance, to name a few.

The year of 1918 gave birth to a day that was supposed to represent a temporary suspension of hostilities by mutual agreement—a truce—for this is what Armistice means. Armistice Day, however, served more as a bandaid in the lives of millions of Britain’s inhabitants. Hostilities would fester for a lifetime for those who would never see their husbands, brothers, or fathers again. It also offered little consolation to returning soldiers who saw the end of the war, but were marked by it forever with their injuries and disfigurements.

Nicolson seems to pull back the curtain on that time making the reader feel as if they are in the midst of the goings on of these lives forever touched by the war. No one was spared of the atrocities, from the ordinary to the famous, such as, D.H. Lawrence, T.S. Eliot, and Virginia Woolf, who found time to write of Armistice Day while at a trip to the dentist.

The war and its residual effects would give rise to many unprecedented events, such as women’s right to vote (with certain restrictions), the increased blurring of class lines, and a music that would therapeutically liberate a people’s mental constraints. Not even the world of fashion was spared when French couturier Coco Chanel introduced innovative fashions that complemented androgyny while retaining femininity, thanks in part, to this jazz music. It seemed that the high hopes of winning the war and/or returning from it unbroken placed on the success of the war in the beginning came crashing down along with the nation’s morality (according to what the powers that be believed), due to its failure in both. Jazz music only served to divide the morale with its primitive elements wreaking havoc on the virginal principles of good people.

Nicolson weaves such a thorough and engaging social history that makes the reader feel personally privy to a time when many of our grandparents were not even a thought. Nicolson’s ability to tell a story complemented by first-hand accounts and access to the diaries of Queen Mary give the reader a virtual experience of what it was like to experience a time long gone, but not forgotten.

Written by: Olupero R. Aiyenimelo, July 22nd 2010

Manifesta: Young Women, Feminism, and the Future (10th Anniversary Edition)

admin — Wed, 19 May 2010 08:00:00 +0000

By Jennifer Baumgardner, Amy Richards

Farrar, Straus and Giroux

Ten years ago, my concept of feminism consisted of white lesbians with unshaven legs and armpits who hated men. Fast forward ten years later–past many existential crises, a couple of college degrees, and a hard drop from blissful ignorance–and my feminist tendencies have even leaked into my chivalrous desire to open the door for men. In no way am I trivializing a movement based on the social, political, and economic equality of those with and without a Y chromosome, but I have come to the realization that I've always been a feminist, right down to the minutiae of my life.

Manifesta serves as a comprehensive guide with which to weave through a world land-mined with sexism. Jennifer Baumgardner and Amy Richards wittily point out how our responses to, and habits accumulated from, sexism have become so ingrained into the psyche of many women that what often lies beyond recognition are these habits and responses themselves. This makes it difficult to correct what we don’t realize is wrong.

The issues covered in this book are so vast and diverse, but are not in the least bit overwhelming to comprehend; from a historical time line of feminism, to the basic distinctions between the first, second, and third waves, to the influence of feminism on and by the media, Manifesta reveals generational perceptions of feminism and the disagreements and realisms about how to implement feminist ideas, even about what feminism is or isn't. Without a bias toward one view or another, Baumgardner and Richards state facts and opinions of feminists from all walks of life, including those who do not identify with the label but may live similarly to a feminist. Most importantly, they take the mystery out of feminism by helping to put its very definition into the hands and lives of those who choose to be affected by it.

Baumgardner and Richards are not such smart alecks that they lose the reader in self-serving sarcasm, but they use just enough humor to make people wonder what you’re laughing so intensely at should they be sitting next to you while you’re reading Manifesta. Feminists are not just white, not just lesbians, and not just women. Feminists wear lipstick and frilly whatnot, as well as combat boots, hairy armpits, and burqas–perhaps all five simultaneously. What is feminist to some may not be feminist to others, but realizing a need for equality across social, political, and economic spectra of gender is beyond the need for a label.

Written by: Olupero R. Aiyenimelo, May 19th 2010

Princess Noire: The Tumultuous Reign of Nina Simone

admin — Fri, 23 Apr 2010 00:00:00 +0000

By Nadine Cohodas

Pantheon Books

Lately, I’ve been reading about artists, creativity, and the psychological eccentricities that draw the two together and force them into a lifelong bond. It is typical for artistic greats to be different from the mainstream, for they tend to be blessed with innovation, perseverance, and, well, a great deal of futuristic talent. If it were to have been different with Nina Simone, I would have been immensely disappointed. Needless to say, I was not.

Although I'm not impressed with the title of this book, Princess Noire: The Tumultuous Reign of Nina Simone, because it gives the impression that Simone's life had been little more than bipolar, after reading its contents, I could understand why that title was chosen. Even still, Nina Simone’s work and talent demands great respect, as she was an instrumental figure in shifting both political consciousness and an innovative marriage of two strange bedfellows (classical music components and rhythm and blues).

As Nadine Cohodas writes, Nina Simone was definitely no angel, and she didn’t always make sound business or personal decisions. She was an extremely temperamental, moody, and complicated soul. She demanded the best from herself, her musicians, and even her audience. Simone recreated the past when recounting her upbringing—sometimes more positively, other times more negatively, and many times leaving much out altogether. She had a version of multiple personality disorder, two unhappy marriages, and many blowups.

Several notable artists were, and are, great because of the personal turmoil they endured. I am fully aware that there are artists who are great despite not having gone through traumatic tribulations, and I don't think one need go through such turmoil in order to produce great works; however, it seems to be a common theme in the creative world.

Nina was a child prodigy. Beginning at the age of two and a half, she demonstrated the musical abilities that would manifest into remarkable piano virtuosity. With her family's cultivation of her talent, and the generosity of people with foresight that extended beyond the color of her skin, Nina was able to hone the talent inside her that would eventually touch the world. Her initial goal of becoming a prominent Black female classical pianist got transformed into a recipe of jazz, rhythm and blues, originality, political consciousness, and an activism that left its mark on time immemorial.

Simone's self-proclaimed inability to fit in with most people has, ironically, united people everywhere. Her musical bravado infused with social consciousness paved the way for everyone from jazz great Ron Carter to hip-hop artist Talib Kweli. She helped get rid of the racially biased cabaret card and ways of conducting business in music. If this is how being different from the mainstream manifests, I’ll take it.

Written by: Olupero R. Aiyenimelo, April 22nd 2010

Post Black: How a New Generation Is Redefining African American Identity

admin — Tue, 30 Mar 2010 00:00:00 +0000

By Ytasha L. Womack

Lawrence Hill Books

Post Black reads like a young, or relatively young, African American’s manifesto. Specifically speaking, it brings home points of declaration from the Generation X and Y African American crowd. Ytasha Womack thoroughly, interestingly, and comprehensibly covers the various aspects that make up the Black population in America. Some of these aspects include African immigrants, young Black professionals, hip-hop participants, and feminists.

I appreciate what Womack is not trying to do with this book, which is establish Black leadership, crucify certain Black men and women, browbeat the generations before us, and preach. There have been many writings on how Generations X and Y see the world, but few of those, if any, do so from the lens of those who have inherited slavery, the Civil Rights Movement, and institutionalized racism. When compounded by those factors, the entrepreneurial spirit that is characteristic of Generation X often affects what type of business is started, who that business caters to, and the very success of that business. The mistrust of authority that is also said to be characteristic of this generation can offer a whole new understanding when the historical basis for this mistrust is legitimate and validated on a continual basis by a society that refuses to acknowledge the historical relevance of entire groups of people. While Post Black does not blame or dwell on this historical reality, the effects are profound in how Black identities in America are shaped and molded by this reality.

Womack details not only the cultural legacy Blacks in America have inherited, but also the struggles of breaking free from the many limitations this legacy has placed on Blacks. Being bound by expected obligations of young Blacks to uphold and preserve this legacy have forced many to abandon it altogether, while others have adapted to the political, social, and economic climate of today. Womack points out that social issues that were previously ignored, dismissed, or viewed as negligible (e.g., homosexuality, feminism, and the large immigration of Africans from the African diaspora) have expanded the perceptions of what it means to be Black in America.

Womack gives a wonderful treatise on how Black is defined according to the individual experiencing it, not solely on what she thinks it is. She includes her own experiences, but uses them to explain the points and experiences she is trying to convey to those who may not understand. I understand thoroughly, because I am the product of the African and African American cultures while falling into that infamous generation known as X. Even for the reader who does not fall into a category of color, the ability to identify with what is said in Post Black should not be lost because negotiating a path that is only a handful of generations away from slavery has affected the realities of all those who have inherited its legacy.

Written by: Olupero R. Aiyenimelo, March 29th 2010

Homophobias: Lust and Loathing Across Time and Space

admin — Wed, 24 Mar 2010 16:01:00 +0000

Edited by David A. B. Murray

Duke University Press

Homosexuality seems to always be a topic of interest for researchers, at least in this day and age. Perhaps it is most interesting because sexuality is one of the most private aspects of a person’s life, and nothing seems to generate interest in quite the way that something so mysterious and private can. Homophobia, like homosexuality, varies in degrees of presence, and is often intertwined with the complexities of the cultural, economic, and political workings of the environment it finds itself situated. In Homophobias, edited by David A. B. Murray, the topic of homophobia and its prevalence is examined across cultures and time.

Of particular interest to me has always been the weaving together of racism and homophobia, which is discussed in the article by Brian Riedel titled, “Stolen Kisses: Homophobias as ‘Racism’ in Contemporary Urban Greece.” Ratsismós, which is the Greek word for racism, encompasses much more than the North American conceptualization of “race,” as stated in this article, in that racism is not restricted to a form of discrimination based on phenotype. In the context of the North American concept of racism and its history, relating racism to homophobia would be and is often vehemently protested by people of color. The argument lies in the views of many who are victims of racism that a person can more or less hide sexuality, while one cannot hide his or her skin color. However, with the linguistic structure of the aforementioned word and its encompassing of not only a race but also a nation or tribe—as opposed to a specific group of people based on phenotype—one would be forced to contemplate how one relates to the other.

In the essay, “The Emergence of Political Homophobia in Indonesia” by Tom Boellstorff, an examination of masculinity and national belonging takes place. Boellstorff defines political homophobia as a “cultural logic that links emotion, sexuality, and political violence,” and states that homophobia is often specific to geography and history. He writes that this definition was exemplified in an anti-American newspaper in Indonesia that gave former President Bush a makeover in the form of lipstick, earrings, and a leather jacket, equating him to an emotional transvestite. This was to signify the failed masculinity Bush displayed in seeking allies to attack Afghanistan, as opposed to a one-on-one duel with Osama Bin Laden; thus, by those standards, Bush was operating as a non-normative male.

Suzanne LaFont’s “Not Quite Redemption Song: LGBT-Hate in Jamaica” captures how firmly heterosexism is institutionalized in Jamaica, in that prejudice and discrimination against LGBT people are tolerated and supported partly by police and politicians. She states that there is a moral superiority held by Jamaica over Western liberal sexual ideology. The institutionalized discrimination of gays also evidenced by the outspokenness of Jamaica’s music artists attests to this held superiority and is reinforced with the continued support of artists that speak out so strongly through their music, even promoting murder against gays.

Homophobias is a well-edited collection of how homophobia is captured across cultures, time, and space. It also questions how homophobia—an exclusive prejudice against homosexuals—can exist as a universal form of discrimination, and how that discrimination can exist in various forms from political emasculation to violent attacks. Homophobias serves as an important collection of works with which to move past preconceived ideas of what one thinks constitutes homophobia.

Written by: Olupero R. Aiyenimelo, March 24th 2010

Shakti Pendant

admin — Sat, 06 Feb 2010 09:00:00 +0000

By K Robins Designs

The K Robins Designs is located on four acres near Wintergreen Mountain Resort in Nellysford, Virginia. It is not surprising that K Robins learned how to carve her designs in wax and cast them in silver from famous flute maker Patrick Olwell, because her jewelry has a very melodious fluidity to its composure. Robins’ original designs come in sterling silver and fourteen carat gold. They are divided into five themes: 1) goddesses, mothers, and daughters, 2) sacred symbols, 3) yoga and meditation, 4) Celtic lore, and 5) meditation.

Robins is a woman after my own heart with the vision for her creations, “Our mission is to discover and create archetypal images and symbols that transcend the personal, resonate with the universal, and soothe the soul.” That is exactly what she has done with the Shakti piece I am currently wearing.

For Hindus, shakti is a generic term used for the many incarnations of the Mother Goddess, a divinely feminine power of creative energy. Shakti represents the dynamic life forces that move through the entire universe. The beauty of this pendant, as well as Robins' other designs, is that they are not so specific in nature that they cannot be many things to many wearers. They serve as communication tools to share while moving about in the world. They can be worn as a sign of strength, serve as pacts between friends, given as heirlooms, or all three.

What is just as beautiful as K Robins’ jewelry is the mission behind her work, which supports art as activism, empowers women, and focuses on sustainability. Her pieces are personal and inviting, peaceful yet capturing, and unassuming yet inspirational. The company's website is just as enriching as the artwork and gives the story behind Robins' decision to share her gift with the public, as well as the people who continue to inspire her. The prices are extremely reasonable while the aesthetics are invaluable.

Written by: Olupero R. Aiyenimelo, February 6th 2010

East African Hip Hop: Youth Culture and Globalization

admin — Thu, 04 Feb 2010 17:01:00 +0000

By Mwenda Ntarangwi

University of Illinois Press

Ntarangwi’s book on hip hop culture in East Africa could be used as an academic treatise for music and cultural classes in any university in America. Generally speaking, when we create something, very rarely are we aware of the far-reaching implications that creation may have outside of our immediate scope. Hip hop has been one such creation. Similar to jazz, hip hop was, in part, created out of the need to communicate what did not want to be heard, at first. Put in this matter of fact way, it was only natural that this phenomenon spread across cultures with very similar communication glitches.

East African Hip Hop succinctly details the impact hip hop has had on the East African population, as well as the impact East African hip hop artists are having on youth in their respective communities. Ntarangwi opens with the effects of globalization and youth culture in East Africa. Globalization has often resulted in an entire continent being left out of a process of ideas and decisions that factor in the value of their resources, while devaluing the people that could benefit the most. The remnants of colonialism and neocolonialism are embedded into the psyches of those that profit, as well as those that are taken advantage of in this profitization. Indirect rule, which is often synonymous with “puppet,” makes it difficult to tell which leaders desire to act in the best interests of their constituents, especially when they are all of the same color. This tactic was a major part of colonialism and is one distinctive aspect that affects what is communicated across cultures. However, in the U.S., the assumption of who the perpetrators are rarely ventures outside of historical context. With Ntarangwi’s use of Malcolm X as an example, what is seen as a struggle against White supremacy in American hip hop is seen as a struggle for land ownership and access in East African hip hop. The indoctrination of Western values and its bootstrap mentality are also what have colored communication.

The HIV/AIDS epidemic in Africa has given rise to an increase in the number of songs about its concern by East African hip hop artists, as well as societal issues concerning gender and tradition. Even with this increase, the tradition of chastity, or the appearance of it by women, has typically made the topic of sexuality a silent one, for fear of the repercussions of challenging cultural mores. East African hip hop is changing this perception as well.

Ntarangwi touches on so many important issues that have propagated the spread of hip hop into a portion of the world that has, up until recently, been kept silent. A portion of the world that has been silent both forcibly and because only now is the medium of hip hop one of the most powerful ways with which to get a message across. Ntarangwi has effectively expounded upon a subject matter that can no longer be silenced.

Written by: Olupero R. Aiyenimelo, February 4th 2010

The Best Of The Black President (Deluxe Edition)

admin — Thu, 04 Feb 2010 09:00:00 +0000

By Fela Kuti

Knitting Factory Records

Are you kidding me? What Fela fan does not want a two-disc music compilation along with a bonus DVD of interviews and concert footage? That aforementioned statement wasn’t a question, but I don’t like seeing the green underlining that Microsoft Word displays when it doesn’t agree with what you’ve written, so I oblige. My only complaint is that it doesn’t have more songs, more footage, and more shiny pictures.

Those of you who are fans of the late Fela Anikulapo Kuti probably already have these songs in your collection. However, with the recent Broadway show of Fela! The Musical, this collection includes bonus features of interviews with Fela biographer, Carlos Moore, director, choreographer, and co-writer of the Broadway production, Bill T. Jones, and Fela himself—a collection that would invoke envy from any avid world music fanatic.

Fela Anikulapo Kuti (1938-1997) might have been a doctor, as was the desire of his parents, but instead he heeded his calling to the music world. Fela was born in Nigeria where Highlife music originated. After studying jazz in the United States, he chose to blend those lessons with Highlife music to create a unique and soulful fusion that has influenced people the world over. A part of this tasty concoction that he would later term Afro-Beat, included the philosophy and writings of Black activists and thinkers like Malcolm X, Eldridge Cleaver, and other Black Panther figures. This blend made Fela a formidable opponent of the corruption that was going on in Nigeria. Finding himself the subject of constant backlash in the form of beatings, jailing and harassment did not stop the persistence and determination that Fela maintained in exposing the scandalous behavior of Nigerian leaders. Even the death of his mother as a result of injuries she sustained during one of the many raids to his living quarters did not silence Fela. The constant battle between Fela and the Nigerian government only increased his popularity.

Fela was, indeed, a unique individual; many people who have heard of him are only familiar with the eccentricity he displayed in marrying all of the women in his band, or his declaration to be the next President of Nigeria (1979) under his “Movement of the People” Party. I urge you to study Fela’s music from the approach of an activist and a musician, and/or someone who simply loves music. Fela’s contribution to human rights and music is inseparable and invaluable.

Written by: Olupero R. Aiyenimelo, February 4th 2010

The Black Body

admin — Mon, 04 Jan 2010 01:00:00 +0000

Edited by Meri Nana-Ama Danquah

Seven Stories Press

Danquah’s literary libation to the Black body consists of a collaboration of folks—Black, White, and both—all of whom seek to convey what it’s like to live in one, be a part of one, and be affected by one. Before opening The Black Body, I already had preconceived notions of how I thought it would read, considering the fact that I have a Black body, myself. I should have known better. It wasn’t necessarily the topics covered that surprised me, but the way in which they were interpreted and the eloquence with which some of the authors conveyed the subject.

Nzingha Clarke’s passage about hands, her father’s in particular, captured the luxury we, as a generation, have in being able to take our hands for granted. The generations of our parents and grandparents were primarily laborers, and only a few were privileged enough to be able to use their hands to write or teach. Their hands were used to pick, wash, and cook. Ours, however, have inherited the choices most of them never got to make. Clarke’s nonchalance for the appearance of her hands is also a luxury in which our grandmothers and great grandmothers took much care, through the use of lotions and oils, to disguise the obligations of their hands. The hands of Clarke’s father finally got to rest when he was put to rest, and Clarke was able to read the book of his life through his hands.

Another passage that came to be one of my favorites was that of Joel Lipman. I may have been wholly offended with anyone else’s attempts to identify with the Black plight. For some reason, Lipman’s poetic account of his youth through sports was creative, witty, and real. In his essay, Lipman states, “Society and race are a fucked up set of twins,” and in reading his contribution is it no clearer. My reason for taking slight offense is Lipman’s use of the term Black Moses to describe Roosevelt Taylor, and in equating him to an animal in some ways. Perhaps I was offended because I am so used to hearing White people equate Black athletes to machines or animals, and this was simply a flashback. Nevertheless, Lipman seemed to be identifying more than describing, and I appreciated that much.

What I took from Danquah’s The Black Body was a subject that touches, creates, and affects the lives that it contacts.

Written by: Olupero R. Aiyenimelo, January 3rd 2010

Persona

admin — Wed, 23 Dec 2009 01:00:00 +0000

By Queen Latifah

Flavor Unit Records

I just completed a music review about how important I thought it was for the fans to evolve with the artist. Perhaps I put my foot in my mouth. I guess I should preface this review by saying that I am a huge fan of Queen Latifah. I am not, however, a huge fan of Persona.

I like to break music up into layers of how I enjoy it; those layers consist of lyrics, vocals, music, and production. Hands down, Queen Latifah can sing, and I can even appreciate the lyrics on some of the tracks. The music and production leave something to be desired.

This current project seems to pervade a sense of resiliency in the entertainment industry, in love, and in life. Queen Latifah gives propers to her home state of New Jersey and other notables who hail from the state in "The Light." "Fast Car" features classic Missy Elliot in all her naughtiness. "Hard To Love Ya," featuring Busta Rhymes, Shawn Stockman, and Dre, is one of the standout songs. "People," featuring Mary J. Blige, is another track worth the listen. Lyrically, I enjoyed "Long Ass Week" and "Runnin", but musically, I was not impressed.

Overall, I could appreciate where I think Queen Latifah was coming from with the many roles she portrayed musically on this effort. Her vocals are always outstanding, but lyrically and musically, Persona falls short. The production is unremarkable with the cookie-cutter synthesized voice-overs, which are unnecessary given Queen Latifah’s beautiful vocals.

I am used to seeing Queen Latifah as an innovator, with her 1989 debut, All Hail The Queen, serving as the foundation. She is one of the only female hip hop artists—wait, she is the only female hip hop artist—who has been able to weather the dreary storm of longevity in the entertainment industry in such a strong fashion. Queen Latifah has donned many roles in her career and her success in this industry makes evolution inevitable. I, however, could not evolve with this one. Maybe I’ll wait for her next effort while I remove my foot from my mouth.

Written by: Olupero R. Aiyenimelo, December 22nd 2009

Devil’s Halo

admin — Sat, 28 Nov 2009 17:01:00 +0000

By Meshell Ndegeocello

Mercer Street Records

I have always admired the artist who is not afraid to spotlight the daily catharsis we call life, and put it into an artistic pill that the masses will not sicken themselves on if left to process with their own devices. Some examples of this type of artist are Marvin Gaye, James Baldwin, and Stevie Wonder. I am not comparing or contrasting; I am simply stating personal observations and opinions. People generally do not get criticized by those closest to them for their growth—be it emotionally, spiritually, or even physically. Those who love us, or are simply enthusiastic admirers of who we are and what we do, tend to be very supportive and appreciative of our plight.

Given the preamble, those enthusiastic admirers who fall outside of the category of family (and sometimes this is also true for those who fall inside of it) tend to be a bit more conditional with their admiration. They want a brilliant finished product, not the torturous, heart-wrenching but beautiful in-betweens. In my humble opinion, Meshell Ndegeocello’s Devil's Halo is that beautiful in-between because it is a compilation of her experiences on the way to the finished product. “Tie One On,” “Bright Shiny Morning,” and “Blood On The Curb” remind me of songs that should be in a movie about twenty-somethings having an existential crisis—and that’s a good thing. “Love You Down” makes me wish I were in Ndegeocello’s head to figure out how she rendered Ready For The World’s original to such a soulful level. I am sincerely apologetic when I say I didn’t care too much for the original version, but I can’t get enough of this one. “Devil’s Halo” is a grooved out track I wish were longer, and a couple honorable mentions are “Lola” and “Hair of The Dog.”

Ndegeocello has never been afraid to take things to another level; although not everyone has appreciated those levels. Her works suggest that she chooses to maintain her own artistic integrity, not the desires of an industry continually adhering to a code of values that fluctuate with the value of the dollar.

Fans tend to be conditional with their appreciation, or lack thereof, and only want a perfectly packaged product that sounds exactly like why they began to like the artist in the first place. I presume the musical diversity Ndegeocello presents as songs suggest her emotional, spiritual, and physical growth-something we all go through, but are not as critical of. The in-between times are manifested in those artistic pills we aren’t always willing to swallow on our own. Hopefully, this one will go down easy for those who truly and enthusiastically admire Ndegeocello's work.

Written by: Olupero R. Aiyenimelo, November 28th 2009

Golondrina, Why Did You Leave Me?

admin — Thu, 19 Nov 2009 17:00:00 +0000

By Bárbara Renaud González

University of Texas Press

Golondrina is the Spanish word for a (female) swallow, a noun. But to accept that in such strict terms would be an injustice to this literary artwork laid out by Bárbara Renaud González in Golondrina, Why Did You Leave Me?. To swallow—the verb—would be to envelope or take in and also to accept or believe without question, anger, or protest. To embrace the former, this long-winged migratory bird with the deeply-forked tail is to embrace all of these definitions within the context of Amada García’s journey.

Amada’s story is intricately woven within the delicacies of Mexican cuisine and through the eyes of her second daughter, Lucero. Her journey begins and, dare I say, ends in Mexico. The Mexican Revolution would seem to better serve as a prelude rather than a catalyst for the bitterness that unmercifully surrounds Amada. For if it were a prelude instead of a catalyst, time may have been kinder to her.

Having to be taken out of school at the age of thirteen, Amada decides to educate herself. This education came in the form of a rebellious quinceañera gift to herself: a brutal marriage to a man her father’s age and a daughter, Salomé, forced to grow up without his love. Amada decides to leave Mexico and Salomé in search of a better life for herself and she hopes the daughter will join her eventually. She falls in love with the man who takes her across the border, but chooses to marry a man who is only in love with the land taken from his people. The love Amada so wishes to have is the love she gives to her eight children and the physical and emotional nourishment she provides for them.

González is a masterful storyteller with the ability to unapologetically simmer pain, desire, and despondency with the richness of words that conjure up beautiful culinary imagery. She refuses to romanticize the brutality of the journey, yet still creates a longing in the reader that allows us to take in this journey with more philosophical resignation than question, anger, or protest. Amada García’s story is that of a heart that migrates across what seems to be three lifetimes: her life in Mexico, her journey from Mexico to Texas, and her life from Texas on forward. Amada's journey starts in Mexico, and even though she is physically in another country, those lessons that have so deeply etched themselves into her heart seem to remain loyal to her motherland.

In Golondrina, Why Did You Leave Me? González beautifully and artfully leaves us content with nothing to protest.

Written by: Olupero R. Aiyenimelo, November 19th 2009

Black Feminist Politics from Kennedy to Clinton

admin — Thu, 05 Nov 2009 17:01:00 +0000

By Duchess Harris

Palgrave MacMillan

There has to be something said for being able to succeed in concisely communicating the issue of Black feminism and politics, but I think Duchess Harris has done just that. In Black Feminist Politics from Kennedy to Clinton, Harris has touched on so many issues within the arena of Black feminism without scattering both her and the reader’s thought process.

Harris opens with a history of Black American feminism with the organizations of the National Black Feminist Organization and the Combahee River Collective She sets the scene with the social, economic, and political climate of the late 1960s. With the advent of the Civil Rights Movement, the War on Poverty, and the focus on welfare, the Democratic Party would become the welcoming committee for racial liberation. The Republican Party, however, would be seen as the home of racial conservatism.

The Aid to Families with Dependent Children program shifted the social consciousness, thus shifting perceptions of the single Black woman as the typical welfare recipient. With the 1968 presidential election involving Richard Nixon, the opportunity to further capitalize on the concept of the welfare queen took prominence in order to further divide both political parties. In further dividing Democratic and Republican Parties, the continuance of that division spread to the White ethnic and working class groups, whose courtship was heavily sought by Nixon for political coalitions. Adding insult to injury came with the use of the 1965 Moynihan Report in which, Senator Moynihan correlated welfare dependency with the behavior of the “poor” (i.e., Black women).

The Combahee River Collective can be said to have been a direct result of this dominant political theme and its exclusion of Black women in their assertions. Having broken away from the National Black Feminist Organization on issues of sexuality and economic development, the group provided the legitimacy of the need to address the social, economic, and political oppression of Black women. Prominent members of the Collective included, Barbara Smith, Cheryl Clarke, Margo Okizawa Rey, Demita Frazier, Gloria Akasha Hull, and Sharon Paige Ritchie.

Harris takes us into the artistic address of Black feminism through Alice Walker’s The Color Purple and The Third Life of Grange Copeland and Ntozake Shange’s For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide When the Rainbow is Enuf, all of which address Black relationships through a patriarchal lens. She also presents Black feminist perspectives from other notable people, such as Lorraine Hansberry, Shirley Chisholm, Anita Hill, and Paula Giddings.

Harris includes appendices that contain questions she asked various women throughout the text, the President’s Commission on the Status of Women (Executive Order 1098), and members of this Commission, along with its committees and consultations. Harris does an exceptional task of providing a foundation with which to address the Black feminist perspective in this era, the events which led to this movement, and a critical analysis of a diverse group of scholars and scholarly thought. And, she does this in a competently succinct and unpretentious way.

Written by: Olupero R. Aiyenimelo, November 5th 2009

Hiding in Hip Hop: On The Down Low in the Entertainment Industry—From Music to Hollywood

admin — Wed, 28 Oct 2009 16:09:00 +0000

By Terrance Dean

Atria Books

Terrance Dean opens his book, Hiding in Hip Hop, with two quotes, one from Ellen Degeneres, in which she states, “If it weren’t for blacks, Jews, and gays, there would be no Oscars.” The other was from The Bhagavad Gita: “It is better to live your own destiny imperfectly than to live an imitation of somebody else’s life with perfection.” With so many ways to approach this book, the latter quote is the way in which I chose to do so.

Dean gives a personal account of the trials, tragedies, and triumphs of growing up as a gay Black man, inside a world that adamantly refuses to accept his existence. Things would be tragic enough if, on the quest for a healthy identity, one had to sift out the sickness of a drug-abusing mother who, along with two brothers, dies of AIDS. A forced and self-imposed separation from family, and the discovery of a sexuality not approved of by the proverbial church that houses wolves in sheep’s clothing, add to experiences that have forced others to become a statistic.

As the title of the book suggests, Dean’s passion for hip-hop propelled him to pursue a career in an environment where his sexuality is like an oxymoron. Dean still adheres to the code of maintaining a “tell and be killed” secrecy in addressing those who are queer, respected, and revered in the hip hop world. In a world where even a hint of being gay can relegate one to lifelong ostracism, Dean is careful to play by the rules and still tell his story with brute and poignant honesty.

The Degeneres’ quote that opens the book is important because she acknowledges not only the contributions made by a group she belongs to, but also those made by two groups to which she does not. It is important because there needs to be the realization that the greatest contributions to society are not defined by sexuality. If there’s a cure for cancer, how many of you will refuse it because you don’t approve of the curer’s sexuality?

The second quote Dean used discussed living one’s own life, not that of someone else. He revealed how difficult it was to hide his sexuality, his desire to openly express his love for another man, and be fully embraced by a culture to which he so profoundly contributed. He perfected the imitation of a straight man at the cost of his spiritual, emotional, and physical well-being. By the book ended, although still healing from these issues, Dean is now unapologetically choosing to work on the perfection of his own life.

Written by: Olupero R. Aiyenimelo, October 28th 2009